


Louder than Words (or: TYRANT!)

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Dildos, Laughter During Sex, Light Bondage, Other, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Silly Roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock and the Survivor engage in some very silly roleplaying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder than Words (or: TYRANT!)

Tip backs Hancock into the bedroom wall, hands on his shoulders and rattling the cross-stitched “WELCOME TO POUND TOWN” hanging lopsidedly from a nail. (Hancock had commissioned it from Daisy and claimed it to be cheeky, welcoming, and worth every cap.) They bite the edge of Hancock’s tricorn hat, mouth thick with smoke and leather, and jerk it aside with a toss of their head.

“Hey, I _like_ that hat,” Hancock growls, twisting his fist into the front of Tip’s shirt. Yanks, pulling Tip down so he can scrape his teeth along Tip’s neck, kiss the hollow of their throat. A fizzing current between them, like the bubbling feel-good of Day Tripper.

He’s too small to truly knock Tip off balance, but Tip takes it as an excuse to press against Hancock, edge their hip into Hancock’s groin and pin him in place. “Such a fucking tyrant,” Tip grumbles, pursing their lips to blow a strand of hair off their place. Overgrown and shaggy, overdue for a trip to the barber. The last time they let Hancock handle scissors had been an unmitigated disaster all around. Their voice has a hint of a burr, never completely smoothed despite prewar speech classes and voice coaching. They don’t care now. Use to think it wasn’t what you said but how you said it, charisma that could be wielded like a scalpel or a sledgehammer.

Now, with the old world ashed to radioactive grit, Tip figures-- fuck how or what people say. It’s what they _do_.

Hancock snorts, nuzzling under Tip’s jaw. Lips Mentat-red and chalky. Mostly out of his system; not that he needs any artificial boosts to be bold. “I’m a man of the people, Tip. _You’re_ a tyrant. _I’m_ a rabble-rouser.”

“Is that what we’re playing then?” Tip asks, tilting their head to kiss Hancock’s temple, brow, cheek. Traveling down, a journey in nibbles and half-steps.

“Hell yeah.” Hancock turns his face up, reaches behind Tip’s head and pulls them in. Friction of lips and teeth, a push of tongue.

Tip pulls their head back with a quick sideways shake of their chin. “Only if you take your coat off first. Hard to strip you when you’re being squirmy.”

Hancock chuckles, low and dirty. “But that’s half the fun! Pants on?”

“Sure,” Tip allows. Pulls the coat off Hancock’s thin shoulders, a rough scrape against the wall and hooking the coat over the doorknob. Hancock cooperates enough to undo his shirt buttons, but growls and mock-bites as Tip pulls the sleeves. “Why you gotta make this so difficult, Hancock? No shame in being easy,” Tip sighs, rolling their eyes.

“More fun to be hard.” Hancock punctuates by grinding against Tip’s thigh, straddling their leg and rising to his toes. Grins wide, canines gleaming yellow in the dim overhead light. His pupils are just visible against the darkened sclera, full and dilated.

“C’mon, belt off? Then I’ll let you call me tyrant as much as you want.”

Hancock snorts through what’s left of his nose, a wheezing sound just audible under the radio and laughter outside. Rest of the house party in full swing, and if anyone realizes their hosts have gone, well-- Sanctuary is a safe enough place now, no-one’s going to worry. “Like I need permission to call you a tyrant.” Still undoes his belt, pulling the folded flag from around his waist and dumping it to the floor. A discarded symbol with only as much meaning as anyone allows, these days-- doesn’t bother Tip the way it might have, once.

Chases the thoughts away with a kiss, a mash of lips and pushes Hancock towards the bed. “Want me to tie you up?”

Hancock nods, knocking his forehead against Tip’s chin. “Just one hand. Wanna be able to touch you.” His knees buckle as they reach the edge of the mattress, collapsing back and pulling Tip’s arms so Tip tumbles over him, elbows braced wide and body pressing Hancock into the mattress. Hancock wriggles, creaking the springs as he winks. “Alright then. Death to tyrants. Fuck you.” Voice a reedy growl, bunching the front of Tip’s shirt between his hands and shaking. An excuse to grind, to rub his fists into the wall of Tip’s chest. Raw want hangs in the air like unfiltered need, harsh and heady, because of all the highs he’s been on, this is the one that has him hooked.

Tip chuckles, pitches their voice low and velvety. Grips Hancock’s wrists, bearing forward and wrapping both wrists in one hand to pin Hancock’s arms against the headboard. They use their spare hand to fish out the rope and form the bight, pulling the rope back on itself and twisting the loops for a hasty cat’s paw. Curses as Hancock grinds up, cock throbbing hot against Tip’s ass. A muffled heat through their layers, but enough to distract. “Quit squirming, or I’m not gonna be able to tie this,” Tip warns.

Hancock rolls his eyes, wriggling himself into the mattress. Knees braced together, heels flat on the bed. Hands still in Tip’s, with only a token twist of protest as he snorts, “What a tyrant.”

“Big talk from a bossy bottom,” Tip snorts right back. He pulls the loops over one of Hancock’s wrists, letting the other free. Hancock strokes Tip’s shoulder, runs the edge of a ragged nail over the thin cloth covering Tip’s bicep. Traces the swell of muscle as Tip ties the ropes to the bedpost, Tip pulling the rope snug and letting the tails trail over the mattress. “You keep up with that ‘tyrant’ talk and I’ll be laughing too hard to stick _anything_ in your ass.”

Hancock bats his eyes, licking his lips to an exaggerated shine. “And that would be such a damn shame.” Waggles where his eyebrows would be, forehead crinkling. Sets the light dancing in his eyes, a sharp-edged charm that still sets Tip’s heart racing.

Tip runs their thumb over the twist of knots, murmuring, “Too tight?” Their shoulders relax at Hancock’s brief head-shake. Straddling Hancock’s chest, they lean forward so their weight is on their knees instead of Hancock’s slender torso, shaggy hair falling to tickle over Hancock’s scalp. Hancock giggles, shaking his head to ruffle Tip’s hair. Tip cups one hand behind Hancock’s ear, blunt nails scratching dry skin. Swallows, struggling to regain the spirit of play. “Well.” Clears their throat, coughing. “Rabble-rouser, tied up and at my mercy.” Warming into the role, Tip cocks an eyebrow and manages a salacious, cheek-aching grin. “You talk real loud, use big words--”

“Need help finding a dictionary?” Hancock asks helpfully.

Tip sputters, turning into a hacking wheeze as they pound their chest with one hand and fall forward, clutching the headboard. Inches from the wall, chipped paint blurring before their watery eyes.

When it passes, Tip points an accusing finger at their smug partner. “Washington.”

Hancock grimaces at the safeword, shoulders slumping in apology. He reaches up with his free hand, stroking Tip’s lower back. Small circles, leathery skin chafing through Tip’s shirt. “Sorry, Tip. Wanna take a break, or…?”

“Nah, wanna keep going,” Tip says, dipping to kiss Hancock’s cheek. Chapped lips and dry friction its own sort of comfort as they breathe in the faint bitter-sharp of Hancock’s skin, the lingering nitrous tickle of Jet fumes. “Seriously though, save some of that for when I’ve actually got my rhythm going, yeah? I have a hard enough time keeping a straight face with this ‘tyrant and rabble-rouser’ scene.”

“Got it, ‘tyrant.’” Hancock slides his hand under Tip’s shirt, slipping his fingers over the bumps of Tip’s spine. A simple line, up and down. A promise: time and patience. Continues stroking until Tip grunts and coughs into their fist.

Voice stern, pitched low as rolling thunder, Tip says, “Okay. Rabble-rouser. You are at my mercy.” Licks their teeth, tasting the lingering vinegar savor from the barbecued brahmin they had for dinner. “Blah blah blah. I’m going to take your pants off and see how mouthy you get with something up your ass.”

“Blah blah blah?” Now it’s Hancock’s turn to wheeze, breath stuttering through what’s left of his nose. “Are you even trying?” Flaps his hand against Tip’s shoulder, too feeble to be a proper slap as he quakes with laughter.

“Hush, you.” Tip shuts Hancock up with another kiss, mashing their lips against Hancock’s teeth until Hancock relents, parting his mouth to let Tip slip their tongue in. Hancock’s tongue tastes a little salty, a little bitter-- barely more substance than memory, not even enough for a second-hand high, but good enough for Tip as Hancock relaxes.

Hancock sighs when Tip pulls back, biting his lip to restrain a very non-rabblerousing whimper as Tip kisses the hollow of his throat, scrapes their teeth along the edge of his collarbone and trails a jagged line of nips down Hancock’s chest and belly. Edge of tooth biting hard, harder-- not from sadistic intent, but because sometimes Hancock needs it a little rough to feel anything at all. Hancock lets out a happy mewl, arching his back. Curls his fingers through Tip’s hair, his bound hand straining against the ropes with a scrape against the bedpost.

Tip pauses at the dip of Hancock’s navel, burying their nose in it and blowing a phenomenally loud raspberry.

“Hey! What the fuck!” Hancock protests through gales of laughter, knees drawn up as he squirms against Tip’s relentless press. Crumples the blankets around him into a twisted nest, pulling Tip’s hair.

“Tyrants do as they please,” Tip says, utterly straight-faced while unbuttoning Hancock’s trousers. Thumbs the last button through its hole and cups their palm against Hancock’s erection, nails prickling his balls. “And yet you still have a hard-on. Must not be that shocking.”

“I’ll shock _you_ if I ever get loose!” Hancock exclaims, clawing at his ropes. Too firmly bound to slip his wrist free, instead scrabbling at the loose ends with his free hand, pitching his hips in an effort to shake Tip off of him. Ends up grinding into Tip’s hand with an exaggerated moan. “I shall never betray the people! No matter how much you finger me, no matter what you cram up my innocent virgin ass, no matter--”

“Virgin? Oh please. Your ass is as experienced as your politics,” Tip grumbles. Flicks their finger against Hancock’s chest with an audible pop, and presses forward to pin Hancock beneath them. “And if you yell ‘for the people!’ when you blow, I’m gonna smother you.”

“Aw, you’re taking all the fun out of it.” Hancock pushes his lip out, trembling it in an overdone pout before blowing a rude noise.

Tip laughs, shaking their head. “I’m a tyrant, remember?” They hook both hands into Hancock’s briefs, tugging them off with the trousers as one unit. Dumps them on the floor, rattling a discarded Jet canister, and grabs a jar of lube. Twists the cap off and sets it on the mattress as they settle between Hancock’s legs, springs creaking beneath their weight. Dipping their fingers into the lube, Tip says, “Helpless and at my will, oh my. If your loyal followers could see you now, about to enjoy your degradation…”

Hancock pauses in clawing at his ropes, lifting his chin with a sniff. “I will never renounce-- ooh,” he groans, turning to a whimper as Tip presses slick fingers to his ass. Still wriggling, jerking away from Tip’s touch even as his cock bounces against his belly, a thin trickle of precome glistening in the light. Tip overcomes this by sitting on Hancock’s thigh, hand flat on Hancock’s pubic bone and pushing him down as they taunt with their fingers. A wet press around Hancock’s ass, slicking over his balls, his thighs. Smooth and hairless, a slippery path of lube before Tip presses that cool touch against Hancock’s taint and puts his finger against Hancock’s hole. He groans, using his rope as leverage in an attempt to pull away from Tip’s finger. “Oh fuck. Doesn’t matter how much you _use_ me, I’m never gonna,” he tries again, digging his heels into the bed as he squirms. “I’m never gonna betray the cause.” Sets the springs jangling as he bounces on his heels, arching his back to tilt his ass away from Tip.

Tip pulls Hancock’s ankle, yanking it to the side and straightening Hancock’s spine. Presses their palm flat over Hancock’s hip, pinning him down. “You misunderstand my intention, foul-mouthed mayor. I’m not trying to pump you for _information_. I’m simply using you for my own sordid ends.” Tip wriggles down the bed between Hancock’s legs, rustling against the covers as they smack their hand against Hancock’s thigh, a ringing slap that jolts Hancock wide-eyed and panting.

“Well.. shit! You might use my body, but I’ll never enjoy it! Never as much as _freedom_!” Hancock begins, voice rising to a squeal as Tip presses his finger into Hancock’s ass. His body contracts with the shock of first entry, clenching around Tip’s finger as Tip rocks forward. His free hand clenches the pillow, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Too proud to whimper as Tip pushes, sliding to their knuckle with hardly any resistance.

“Only took one finger to shut you up. I’m disappointed,” Tip teases. Knees tucked together and sitting between Hancock’s knees, they lean forward to nip the inside of Hancock’s thigh. A sharp bite, teeth denting flesh. Runs their tongue over the lingering mark, tasting the green alkali of their shared soap.

Hancock raises his middle finger, sticking out his tongue.

Tip grins, slipping a second finger beside the first-- easy enough, with the kind of play they’ve done before and how much lube Tip’s got splashing down their palm, enough to trickle down Hancock’s ass and drip into the blankets. But it makes Hancock jerk forward, headboard thumping the wall as he pulls on his restraints. His ass practically welcomes this second finger; hot and soft, so _smooth_ and responsive compared to the rest of Hancock’s ghoulified flesh. “Ah, a size queen? And here I thought I’d have to go gentle so I wouldn’t break my new toy.” Their trouser seam digs into their groin, but it’s a good kind of chafing, a grounding pressure while they focus on Hancock.

“Freedom is always looking to expand,” Hancock says loftily. He tugs at the headboard with his bound hand, then drops other hand to his groin to start stroking himself. A brisk up and down, shameless in its expediency.

Tip slaps his hand away, brows knit in a withering glare. Or as close as they can get while snickering. “None of that yet. I definitely hope to _expand_ your horizons, puny rabble-rouser.” They thrust forward, back. Rougher, harder and still not enough, from the way Hancock ruts onto their hand. Scissors their fingers, slips in a third-- thinks about trying for a fist, but not the kind of play they had in mind.

Good to see Hancock enjoying himself though. The man lolls back with his eyes shut, head tucked into the crook of the shoulder that’s pulled overhead. Waifishly thin, despite his many appetites. His belly flutters concave as he exhales, whimpering into his skin and groaning. Light dances laddered shadows over his ribs.

“This was just the warm-up, little rabble-rouser. Now I’m going to fuck you into the mattress,” Tip growls. Pulls their hands free, patting Hancock’s thigh on the way out and rising to their feet. They keep the toys in the bedside table, and the scrape of the wooden drawer’s barely audible over Hancock’s exaggerated sigh.

Hancock blinks his eyes open, licking his lip with a greying tongue. Shakes his head at the first dildo Tip pulls out, a slim model with a gentle curve. “Nah, bigger.”

“Really?” Tip asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you _want_ me to fuck you, little rabble-rouser.”

Hancock grins, sharp and wicked. “Ah, tyrant! You think to silence me with such a puny rod? I will-- oh _holy shit_!” he yelps at the purple monstrosity Tip pulls out. Heavy and awkward enough that Tip needs two hands to hold it, the shaft thicker than Tip’s forearm. “Where the hell did you find that thing?!”

“We weren’t exactly as buttoned up before the war as everyone thought we were,” Tip says, rolling their eyes. “Too big?”

“Uh… yeah. Too big for tonight at least.” Hancock curls his toes into the blankets, wriggling his hips with a thoughtful look. Cat-smug, wheels turning. Tip’s half-surprised not to see steam coming out his ears. “Don’t mind working my way up to it though.”

“Gotcha. For tonight-- not too big, not too small, how about this one?” Tip asks, dropping the previous toy with a _thud_ that rattles the drawer and pulling out a more modest silicone cock.

“Perfect. I mean,” Hancock coughs into his fist, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin. “Terrible tyrant! You think to punish me with your prewar perversions, you and your disgusting, sexy, lecherous, lascivious, prurient, impure, immoral toys!”

“You forgot perverted and dissolute,” Tip says helpfully.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” says Hancock, mustering his dignity and tilting back so he can peer down what’s left of his nose. A very good trick, considering Tip towers over him even when Hancock’s not pinned down. “Fuck you very much.” An artificial smile, like he’s got coins slotted between his back teeth.

“Fuck you too,” Tip chuckles, kissing the bend of Hancock’s knee and pushing back. Rolls Hancock backward, the man groaning as he grips the headboard, grips his own rope. Tip slathers lube over the dildo, then presses it to Hancock’s hole with a soft squelch of fluids. Hancock gulps, sighing as it slides in.

And Tip meant to go slow, truly, but Hancock releases the headboard and tumbles forward, slicking himself down the shaft and groaning. His ass hits Tip’s fist, and Tip pushes forward. Back. Fucking slow, but only because fucking fast will get Hancock off too quickly. They keep their hand gripping Hancock’s knee, rocking him back and forth as the dildo slides in and out. Slippery and frictionless with lube. Sweat trickles down the line of their spine, sticking their shirt to their back as Hancock keens. _Works_ it, painstakingly slow on the entry and slippery-fast on the exit. Gobbles up every single one of Hancock’s noises, a pornographic tapestry of sound.

Slow, but rough. Silicone balls slapping Hancock’s ass, their groin throbbing as Hancock mewls. Hancock thrashes sideways, knees knocking Tip’s ribs, his ragged nails scratching down Tip’s sleeves. Digging deep enough to leave white furrows on the flesh beneath, Tip hissing through their teeth but can’t stop, won’t stop. Won’t stop until Hancock finally begs--

“Like, _shit_ , Tip. Let me come already,” Hancock says, voice cracking. “Come on, no more tyrant crap.”

“Alright then. Touch yourself,” Tip says, barely a breath before Hancock starts jerking his cock, fast enough his hand slaps skin in a sweaty, off-beat rhythm. Fast, twitchy, and Tip picks up their pace with the dildo, fucking harder and leaning their weight into it. Headboard slamming the wall, Hancock moaning loud and wild, pulling the rope so hard Tip’s afraid he’s going to chafe--

But Hancock screams, grunts as he finally comes. Semen streaks over his belly, dripping into his navel as he groans, sighs. Finally relaxes, body limp and heady rolling to the side. Lets out a long and happy exhale.

“This had to be the most ridiculous roleplaying I’ve ever done,” Tip says, pulling the dildo out. Drops it to the floor, figuring they can clean up in the morning. Sends the lube after it-- and oops, it rolled under the bed but the mouthy mayor can get it in the morning. Serve him right.

Tip pats Hancock’s ass, somewhere between soothing and possessive. Because fuck, Hancock can _take_ it, sure, knows his own limits after how long spent chasing his next peak, but doesn’t stop Tip from wanting to take care of him after.

“You were still a fucking champ,” Hancock chuckles, twitching his bound wrist so his fingers tap the rope.

Tip takes the hint, undoing the knot and sliding into bed. Hancock twists onto his side, pillowing his head on Tip’s shoulder with his back to Tip, his arm stretched in front of him as he slowly curls and uncurls his hand.

Tip rolls to spoon Hancock, pressing their fingers over Hancock’s wrist. Not even any striations, no redness or marks that Tip can feel. “Was it too tight?” Hancock’s pulse is like warm thread, keeping them stitched together as Tip keeps their hands together.

“Nah, just pulled a bit. Not even a mark.” Hancock chuckles, low and sweet. “My skin ain’t too sensitive these days.” Proves the words a lie as Tip nuzzles the back of his neck, Hancock damn near purring as he arches into the contact.

“You are such a softie,” says Tip, more breath than voice. Feeding kisses in the shape of their lips, syllables kissing skin.

“Hey, I’m the hardest ghoul you’re ever gonna see. Don’t make me go feral on you now,” Hancock laughs, snapping his teeth.

Tip presses their lips to the back of his neck. “Softie. So-o-oftie,” they sing-song, nibbling Hancock’s skin and flicking their tongue into the hollow behind Hancock’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” Hancock squirms low, resting his head beneath Tip’s chin. “Hush up and let a man sleep. Me and my ass are damn tired.” Tugs Tip’s arm over him, wrapping himself in Tip’s embrace.

“Gotcha, gotcha.” Tip kisses him again. “Just lemme turn off the light.” Picks their arm up, rolling out of bed just long enough to flick the switch before tumbling back in, stacking limbs and hands to fit against Hancock. “Who’s a good little rabble-rouser then?” they ask, scratching behind Hancock’s ear.

Hancock snickers, wriggling into Tip’s embrace. “Me!” Pulls Tip’s hand over his belly, ‘accidentally’ wiping away the wet spot.

Tip rolls their eyes but lets the man sleep. Hancock always falls asleep first, a sweet sort of trust in how easily he relaxes, spooned up close and inching to fill any gap of warmth that might be between them. Usually with his mouth open, a thin line of drool trickling into the sheets.

Honestly, Tip wouldn’t have him any other way.


End file.
